We initiated Cor to what's become a bit of an annual tradition with our family -- riding out to Holland's Flower Region, to take a look at the colorful fields stretching out miles and miles in every direction.  For some reason, Dutch people do not seem to get too excited about all the tulips, daffodils, and hyacinths.  It's considered a silly tourist activity.  Very few make a point to visit the fields at this time of the year.  Surprisingly few have ever witnessed the flower fields of their homeland first-hand.  It's almost to the point that even an extended glance out of the train window is considered shameful gawking.

But our family is not Dutch. :-)

So each year, for the last four years, we've gone out with all the other tourists to take pictures in the flower fields.  It's one of the most unique and beautiful experiences in the Netherlands, if you ask me.

Prior to this year, however, we had always gone out in the late morning / early afternoon time frame, enjoying a picnic lunch somewhere and all that good stuff.  But this year, we decided to travel out in the evening hours -- partly to take advantage of the softer, more golden sunlight that falls across the landscapes at this time of day, and partly to adapt to Cor's nap schedule and the general logisitical challenges of now being a family of five.

Unfortunately, we got stuck in a massive traffic jam, as dozens and dozens (if not hundreds) of tour buses and other vehicles poured out of the Keukenhof -- apparently at its closing time.  Keukenhof is like the Disneyworld of flowers -- highly hyped, highly visited (by people from all corners of the globe), and highly priced.  We've been there before, and enjoyed it... until we discovered that simply driving through the open fields is actually nicer (and a heck of a lot cheaper).  But I had forgotten how much hassle the traffic there can be -- especially if you go during the "rush hour" (which we haven't in the last three years, but unintentionally did this evening).  It was ridiculous.  The situation actually made me start to understand the Dutch perspective on the flower/tourist industry in that part of the country at that time of the year.

We weren't able to get nearly as many photos as we have in previous years -- mostly due to the traffic thing, but also due to the family-of-five logistics thing.  But still, out of the pictures that we did get to take, there were a few keepers (as you can see from this post).  And all in all, we had a good time together.

Next time, we'll just have to remember to pack our tourist repellent. 

People in the Netherlands -- just like people in the United States -- enjoy a good practical joke on the first day of April. But whereas American jokesters would simply shout "April Fools!" after pulling off a good hoax, Dutch people add a simple two-lined song: "Één april! Kikker in je bil!" (basically to the tune of "Na-na-nana-boo-boo!").

The translation: "April first! Frog up your butt!"

I should perhaps clarify that it may just be the sixth-year-old boys from Elliot's school who have this "tradition" (and possibly not the Dutch culture at large). But I thought it was an amusing anecdote, at any rate.

Dear Elliot,

Happy Birthday! Six years old, huh? That's pretty incredible. You know, I don't think I can refer to you as a "little boy" anymore. Somewhere, somehow, sometime within the last year or so, you crossed a threshhold -- albeit vague and ambiguous, as it often is with the vast majority of life's various threshholds -- and you ceased to be a "little boy." You became a regular, full-fledged, out-right boy. A big boy, even... Of course, all of these terminologies are relative and basically irrelevant in the grander scheme of things. People will always call you what they want to call you -- based on their preconceived notions, their personal perceptions, their prejudices -- but for whatever it's worth, Elliot, I think you ought to be called a big boy now. A gen-u-ine, bonafide, certifiable six-year-old boy. And not just any boy: my boy.

I sure do love you, Elliot. I'm so proud of the boy that you've become (and are becoming). You're tall, lean, fast, tough, intelligent, spirited, and fun. I cannot help but marvel at your intelligence and maturity. You're a good, responsible kid who just seems to "get it," understanding the complexities of life -- on two continents, in two cultures, no less -- in ways that even I cannot fully comprehend. Truly, your innate sense of understanding is a wonder to behold. I hope and trust that this will be a blessing from God that will serve you (and others) well throughout your life. At the same time, though, it's unfortunate to note that your giftedness can seem to work against you at times. You notice hurtful comments and actions that others might not notice. You feel the weight of emotional events on a level that many of the other kids your age do not, or cannot. You can become so frustrated at your own personal imperfections -- simply because you're self-aware!

I'm glad that God made you this way. I really admire these traits about you. However, please be careful not to let your quest for complete comprehension block your view of the great beauties of life (even the painful parts of life) and the incredible strides that you've made along the way. I hope you can grow to realize (in all these things) that you are a highly capable, very special boy, who is still very much at the beginning of a lifetime of learning -- whether it's building the ultimate Lego mansion, or sketching the most intricate Superman portrait, or racing your bike around the Bikoplein, or tying your shoelaces, or practicing fast-listening to me and Mommy. You're doing a great job, Elliot. Go ahead and keep asking questions if you don't understand something (I know you will anyway!). Go ahead and keep practicing, getting better, improving your techniques in all these (and other) various disciplines. But give yourself some grace, too, OK? Imperfection and pain is a part of life. Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody hurts sometimes. Just don't forget: I'm proud of you, and I love you just the way you are. And even more signficantly, God is proud of you, and He loves you just the way you are.

I know that all of this is easier advised than applied. Easier said than done. I know from personal experience. But maybe we can work on it together. And as we can learn to accept our imperfections and accept God's grace (like it says in Ephesians 2:8-9), we'll be able to walk comfortably and confidently in the good works which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Ah Elliot... my boy... you simply cannot comprehend the affection in my heart, the smile on my face, the warm thoughts in my mind -- when I think about you, as I'm sitting here, writing this letter. You simply cannot comprehend it -- not because of your inability to accept it, but because of my inability to fully articulate it! How can I verbally summarize your frownish/smilish "game face," which signals you're about to tackle me, or show me a new trick on your bike, or bust into rhyme about Ned, who's dressed in Red, and lives in Bled?!? How can I speak of the scintillating softness of your heart, when you sob uncontrollably upon the realization of the way you've wronged your mother, or when you respond (unprompted) to the spilling of your sister's appel-vier-bessensap with a slosh of your own precious portion, or when you meticulously manufacture incredibly thoughtful gifts for your friends and family members?!? How can I explain the depth of respect and admiration for a boy who is 25 years my junior?!?

You've truly become a beautiful boy, Elliot. I can't take much credit for it, though. Your people skills and linguistic abilities already show signs of being far beyond my own. Your dashingly smooth good looks, clearly, are thanks to your mother. And above and beyond all of this, as the first-born in our family, you're working against the dubious distinction of being our family's proefkonijn. You know, there's a pretty steep learning curve for parents -- and I've only recently been realizing how much it's had to come at your expense. We were, I'm afraid, far too rigid, too regimented, too principled in the beginning, with you. We've never been -- and (I hate to break it to you) never will be perfect parents. And yet, I have no doubt that you're turning out to be a terrific kid in spite of it all. I guess it's just one more reminder of God's grace in the face of our imperfections. Apparently, God even gives grace for children (such as you) to deal with our parental (and personal) shortcomings. Wow. Hallelujah for that...

I sure do love you, Elliot. My boy. My big boy. Six-year-olds sure can do a lot of cool stuff -- and what's coolest is that you've still got gobs of potential for the years to come -- but remember that none of us can do it all. That's why we've got each other. That's why we've got Jesus.

God bless you, my boy. Happy Birthday!

Love,

Dad

Elliot celebrated his sixth birthday today (even though his official birthday is not until Saturday). We organized a "Cars"-themed party, which turned out to be a big hit.

Believe it or not, after celebrating five other birthdays here in the Netherlands, this year was Elliot's first real Dutch party -- which is to say: a majority of the guests were Dutch (or at least non-American) and the primary language spoken during the party was Dutch. Somehow, this threshhold seems significant.

One of the main reasons that we organized the party for today instead of for Saturday (his actual birthday) was that we wanted to create some separation between Elliot's birthday (a fun occasion) and his best friend Tobias' departure (a sad occasion). This Saturday will be the last big hurrah for the Dubois family -- with a farewell party at the H88 -- and Elliot has been dreading the arrival of his birthday, because it means that he'll have to say his last good-byes to Tobias. When we dropped Tobias off, back at his house, and Elliot saw all the moving boxes piled up -- it seemed that the reality of the Dubois family's imminent departure started to set in more fully. I feel bad for my boy. I know that it's going to be hard for him.

Still, today was a day for smiling. A day for celebration. Saturday will be that in a way, too, but in a hard kind of way.  Today was just a good time for eating cake, playing games, and being silly with friends.

Like many other Americans at this time of the year, I enjoy the delicate balance of science and intuition that goes into guessing the winners of the annual basketball tournament of the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA).  There's a certain excitement about the whole process -- especially in the days leading up to and including the first couple of rounds of the tournament (when there are several games simultaneously being played in varoius parts of the country).  I have warm memories of filling out the tournament brackets in high school (and even stealing glimpses of the games, together with the teacher, on the classroom television set in our cheminstry laboratory)... I remember debating the prospects of various games together with the other guys in my dormitory at Bowling Green State University... And even since moving to Europe, I've kept up with the annual observance of "March Madness."  It's a lot of fun.

For the first time this year, though, I've included my two oldest children on the tradition as well.  A friend of ours (with whom we also happen to be hanging out this week) organizes a rather sophisticated contest for the NCAA basketball tournament, with prizes handed out primarily for the sake of prestige (more than financial gain, like most "bracket pools" in the USA).  Thus, together, Elliot, and Olivia, and I are now vying for the coveted March Madness Traveling Tropy (and yes, the spelling on that last word is, in fact, correct) -- and competing amongst ourselves to see whose skills in sports prognostication are the most developed.

It's funny to see how Elliot and Olivia approach the selection process.  Elliot used some degree of logic -- albeit a rather unusual sort of logic -- in making his picks.  He asked a number of questions and sought my input on a number of occasions, pausing at times to genuinely consider a difficult pick in his mind.  But ultimately, he made his picks according to his own wisdom -- which seemed to be primarily linked to acquaintance and familiarity with the names of the schools in the tournament.  American University (a lowly #15 seed) was picked to advance a few rounds, "because I'm American." Kent State was picked to win a few rounds because it's an Ohio school.  Siena was picked for a number of upsets (making it all the way to the "Elite 8"), because Elliot and Olivia have a friend named Sienna.  Likewise, West Virginia (though not quite as much of a long-shot as Siena) was picked for the "Sweet 16" because Elliot has a cousin named Virginia.  Ultimately, Elliot picked Wisconsin and Texas to be playing for the championship -- Wisconsin because "Daddy used to live there," and Texas because his cousins Aydan and Brennan live there.  Don't ask me how he figured out that Texas would be his ultimate pick for the national championship.

Olivia, on the other hand, seemed to use almost no logic in making her picks.  Remarkably, she didn't even hesitate from one choice to the next.  At first, I thought she was just picking the second team that I mentioned (i.e. a question of "Team A or Team B" would always result in an answer of "Team B")... But as I experimented with this hypothesis, it was definitively disproved.  Apparently, it was just the aesthetic appeal of one school's name over another.  Thus, she picked three of the #16 seeds (the lowest teams with the longest odds of success) to advance to the second round (even though such an upset has never occurred in the history of the NCAA Tournament, up to this point).  And her Final Four were Boise State (a #14 seed), Austin-Peay (a #15 seed), Georgia (#14 seed), and Gonzaga (#7 seed) -- with, who else, Boise State winning the national title.

What's really funny, though, in all of this is that Elliot and Olivia honestly have as much of a chance to do well with their predictions (Well... OK, Olivia less than Elliot)... You never can tell when it comes to March Madness.